


This is Your Brain on Dean

by CopperMask (Hard_boiled_candy)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awesome Sam, Bunker Sex, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 19:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11538498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hard_boiled_candy/pseuds/CopperMask
Summary: Someone spikes Castiel's drink while Dean and Cas are hunting. They both forget they aren't supposed to talk about 'those feelings' - ever, and there are lots of angsty feels before the gooey and inevitable sex. Season 11/12 adjacent.





	1. Eight Miles High

Dean never let his drink out of his sight. It was a rookie mistake to lose control over one’s beer, and he was no rookie.

Castiel, unfortunately, took his eyes off his drink long enough to collect a complimentary drugging.

They were asking questions in a bar, trying to get a line on a vamp nest, and somebody spiced up Castiel’s soda with Chuck-knew-what and some MDMA on top. Fortunately, he didn’t get the full dose, leaving most of the soda on the counter.

By the time the hunters got back to the Impala, Cas was heavy on his feet. After a couple of minutes of driving, Dean felt the weight of Castiel’s gaze like it was a smoking hot anvil.

“What?” he asked, almost irritably, looking over. Cas looked adoringly at him. He was used to the stare, but this was something different, and almost…

“You are the most attractive person in the whole world,” Cas said slowly.

Dean chuckled to cover his discomfiture. “What was in that Coke?”

“That’s a good question. I feel really good, really, _really_ good, but also very strange.” He reached over and covered Dean’s hand on the steering wheel.

Dean flinched and pulled his hand away.

“Aw man,” he said. He pulled over, turned the dome light on and checked Castiel’s pupils.

“Eight miles high,” he said, shaking his head.

“I’m high?” Castiel asked faintly.

“High enough that you’re going to be embarrassed if you say another word. Try not to talk. The less you say the less you’ll have to give me a stumbling apology for.”

“Okay,” Cas said. If the time for words was over, perhaps the time for action had arrived. He unbuckled his seat belt, smiled winningly at Dean, and then slid along the seat and leaned back and started kissing Dean’s neck. Dean jumped again and jammed himself against his door, pushing against the steering wheel in an attempt to get away from one extremely blasted and apparently horny angel.

“Jesus, Cas,” he said from between his teeth.

As he gazed at Dean with eyes like marbles, Castiel put his finger to his lips in a shushing gesture, grabbed the lapels of Dean’s jacket, and jerked him back toward the passenger side.

Something in Dean’s face made Castiel let go when their faces were perhaps six inches apart.

“You’re not… into it.” Dean looked horrified. It was, as Dean himself might say, a boner-killer.

“Sorry, Cas, but no,” Dean said. Castiel felt Dean’s breath on his face and trembled.

“Is that a permanent state?” Castiel’s eyes kept opening very wide and then squinting, and then opening very wide again. He looked as though ‘eight miles high’ was not a good descriptor any more; he was out around Mars, and pulling away at warp speed.

“Even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t take advantage of a friend, and you, my friend, are fucking obliterated,” Dean said.

It was an awkward four hour drive back to the bunker. For the first hour Dean had to keep slapping away Castiel’s hands; they caressed his face, smoothed the lines of his cheap suit (Dean hadn’t had the chance to change), played with his hair, gently stroked the outline of his ear (and Jesus, that nearly did him), teased their way up his thighs, rested on his shoulder squeezing randomly, and once, his favorite angel poked his fingers into Dean’s armpit and Baby swerved so hard and suddenly that the two of them nearly died in a mass of tangled wreckage. Dean didn’t stop swearing for a quite a while after he got Baby centred in the right lane again.

“Sorry,” Cas said, and tittered. Dean pulled over, braking perhaps a little harder than he needed to.

“Cas, ya gotta stop it. I know you’re in ‘Love the One You’re With’ drugged-out fondle mode, but I’m driving, and we’re going home.”

“If you let me drive I won’t be able to fondle you,” Cas remarked, as if this made perfect sense.

Dean snorted. “You are in _no_ condition to drive. Could you get in the back seat and quit bugging me?”

“Could you get in the back seat with me?” Cas said, piteously. “I’ll be very lonely back there without you.”

He spoke, no longer sad but serious, the way he normally spoke, but with such transparency and simplicity that Dean was taken aback.

“I didn’t know how lonely I was until I met you, Dean. You think that because God made you and you’re his soldier and you have all your fellow soldiers around you that everything is fine. Then you meet someone, but before he says a word to you, you know everything about him. And then the first time he speaks to you it’s like there’s something inside you that was never there before; I could see everything you were when I lifted you from hell – but the second you moved and spoke you were an individual and it was as if I no longer knew you. I had to get to know you again, in this form, in this manifestation. I understood your free will for the first time and I compared it with what I had and I was jealous, _so jealous_ , for a moment – and it was in that moment I rebelled against God.”

“I chose you before God because you yourself made choices. You did what you could in a sea of unending choices, most of them bad, and made the best of all of it. But most of all, after your first effort to kill me, which I’ve long since forgiven you for, you made an effort to understand me, to comfort me, to befriend me, to teach me.”

Cas looked at Dean in silent supplication.

“When you look at me, I see in your eyes a loving intelligence, loyal and steadfast and – and tough. And now thanks to this drug I feel like it’s okay to want all of it, the flesh along with the friendship. But it’s wrong.”

 

There was a long, aching pause, during which Dean tried and failed to find a kind response. He wanted to hold him with rib-breaking closeness and almost reached over, but as often happened, Cas intuited his discomfort and spared him.

Castiel turned and looked out the window. “You can drive,” he said calmly. “I’ll leave you alone.”

Dean’s hand went to the car key and dropped again. He looked at Cas.

“Why is it wrong?” Dean asked. Then realizing what he said could easily be misinterpreted, he rephrased the question, “Why do _you_ think it’s wrong?”

“It’s selfish and greedy and inconvenient and you don’t want it,” Castiel said, holding up one splayed hand and clumsily ticking off the list with the other forefinger.

“I wouldn’t lie about us if there was an us. But I’m not attracted to men,” Dean said. _Angels, on the other hand. One particular angel._ If they were going to be sitting and talking, there was no point to the seatbelt.He unclasped and slowly released it.

“Thank you for not wanting to lie about it, even hypothetically,” Cas said. He looked briefly at Dean and then, sighing, returned his gaze to the side window. “I’m relieved. I know you care about me as much as you’ve ever cared about anyone, and I’m sorry I wanted more. Your friendship is everything I didn’t know I wanted. I’m sorry.”

“I’m _so_ done with being the friend who makes you say ‘I’m sorry’ this much,” Dean said, and leaned toward Cas. Castiel, looking out the window, didn’t notice right away. He turned and said, starting a little when Dean’s head was so close to his, “I understand. I’ll pack up when we get to the bunker.”

“What? Do you _want_ to go?”

“I’ve made things stupid and uncomfortable. It’s going to be easier if I go.”

“What do you _want_?” Dean said in anguish. Then, trying to be calmer, he thought, _What would Sam say?_ , and asked, “What’s the outcome you want?”

“More. I don’t know what. What you’re prepared to share with me.”

“Not really helping, Cas,” Dean said. He reached out a hand and put it on the nearest shoulder. Cas nuzzled his hand like a cat, and straightened abruptly and looked back out the window. Dean sighed, knowing that he’d be thinking about that brief, sensual gesture for weeks to come. He pulled his hand away gently.

“Every time I’ve gotten physically close to someone, in a sexual way, I haven’t felt safe,” Cas said, still looking outthe window. “But I could with you. If you were with me I could feel safe. Nobody else really exists for me, sexually, besides you.”

“Cas, that’s kind of a lot to take in. Try to think about it from my perspective. If we –“

“If we _what,_ Dean? If we kissed?” Cas was looking at him again. There was concentration, impaired somewhat by the drugs. There was pain. There was a challenge.

“If we did anything more intense than what we’re doing right now,” Dean responded, pulling back to his side of the car.

“Okay. It’s not real, it’s a thought experiment.” Cas muttered something else and looked out the window again.

Dean said, “You feel safe with me. So…We fool around. We get ‘intimate’. You think you’re safe, but you’re not. It’s a thrill for a minute, and then the sex makes everything about our friendship explode, and you and I aren’t friends anymore, and we’re both wishing we hadn’t done anything. You know how half a loaf is better than no bread? That’s what I’m talking about. Your friendship is _too important._ ”

Castiel sat up. Slowly, his head swivelled around and he looked at Dean and said, “I think I’m going to throw up.”

He flailed at the door handle and, staggering a bit, managed to make it to the trunk. He leaned against it with one hand and puked with astonishing force. When it was done he said, “No thanks, I’m fine. I’ve got a handkerchief, it’s _okay_ , you needn’t _hover_.”

Dean got back in the Impala. He closed his eyes and hung onto the steering wheel for dear life.

“Did you mean what you said,” Cas said when he got back in the car. Dean handed him a water bottle and he gratefully drank.

“Just now,” Castiel continued. “Did you mean what you said?”

“I think so. What’s got you upset?”

You said, “‘I’m done with being the friend who makes you say I’m sorry.’”

“Uh, Cas… I don’t think you took it how I meant it.”

“I took it that you’re bored with my apologies about not being a better friend.”

_Holy shit are those tears? They’d better not be tears! Great – you just made your best friend cry when he’s so frikkin’ high he could get a part-time job as a weather balloon._

“That was really hard to hear, Dean,” Castiel said, not resentfully, but with melting sadness and acceptance.

“I don’t think you … I want you to be happy.If I can’t be the friend you want me to be, I don’t want _you_ to be the one saying ‘I’m sorry’.”

“You’re not done with me?” Castiel said, with fresh hope shining through his tears. Dean’s heart was wrung.

“Cas, you’re my friend, my most important friend. I’ve never had anyone like you in my life and I never will again. I want your friendship more than almost anything, and I don’t want to hurt that.”

“You think you could do something unforgivable to me?” Castiel said in wonderment.

Now it was Dean’s turn to look out the driver’s side window. His voice didn’t change, but a tear slid out. “I _know_ I could. I’m probably doing it right now.”

“We’re still friends,” Castiel said, his voice full of childlike trust.

“You know we are,” Dean said, all hearty and relieved, if you didn’t see the tear streak. “We good? I mean, you’re high and you think you want to – well, let’s not go there – but we can’t.”

“Because you don’t desire me that way. I know,” Castiel said, obediently.

_No, Cas, because if I failed you as a lover I’d jump off a bridge._

There was a long silence.

_I’ve gotta tell him. I can’t keep doing this. Life is short. I’ve gotta tell him._

“Let’s go home,” Castiel said. “It’s a long drive and I’m keeping you from your rest.”

_He was so careful not to use the word bed. I’ve gotta tell him. Life is short._

The drugs put Cas into a strange state after another half hour. He was awake, but he couldn’t move and he couldn’t open his eyes. With disgust, he heard himself snore. He tried to move, several times. His breathing felt laboured. After a few minutes like this, he wondered if he was suffering a weird neurological symptom brought on by the random street drug cocktail, and his last words on earth would be implying to Dean Winchester that he wanted to be naked in a bed with him, with his arms wrapped around him, kissing him for sure, and other things if Dean could stand it, although that hardly seemed right. He couldn’t even fantasize about doing anything with him unless he could convince himself that Dean wanted it.

It was good he had no control over his body right now, Castiel thought blearily, because Dean had been so kind and thoughtful in his rejection that Castiel felt like he could cry for a week. But if he cried, Dean wouldn’t rest until he calmed Cas down, because that’s what friends do. It would be – distressing – for Dean.

To Castiel’s astonishment, after ten minutes Dean started talking to him as if he were awake. Castiel tried to alert him, but his hands stayed in his lap and his eyes and mouth refused to open. Cas couldn’t even move his tongue in his mouth. He could breathe (and snore), but he could not move.

“Well Cas, if you didn’t think I was a cowardly asshole before, I guess you know it for sure now. Everything I ever wanted handed on a silver platter and I have to say no because, hey, guess what, I’d just fuck it up tomorrow, and you’re too high to take advantage of today.”

 _No you wouldn’t,_ Cas thought at him desperately. _You wouldn’t fuck it up. You would be beautiful. I could tell you how beautiful you were without fucking it up with words._

Castiel realized that he might have to pretend he’d never heard this. With dread, anticipation and a pounding heart he waited for what Dean would say next. He emitted a long, snuffling snore, appalled that he could sound so much like an animal.

Dean almost sounded amused. “Out cold.Sweet dreams, buddy. Hope you dream about flying and kicking demon ass in four dimensional space,” Dean said.

He sighed. “I still can’t believe you want to be my friend. Maybe you’re a masochist? Then we’re just like that old joke, the masochist says hit me! hit me! and the sadist says no! no! Cas, you have no – fucking – idea – how much I’d love to tap that remarkably fine ass, and oh hell yeah, I’ve checked it out, _lots_ , but you know what? I’d rather have a lifelong friendship with the sweetest, most loyal, most selfless guy I’ll ever meet than fuck it up by being greedy. Didja ever think that the reason that I never started is because I don’t think I could stop? That I’d be on you, morning, noon and night, begging for sex, begging just to be close to you, until you just pointed at the door and said _I’m done_? Or until you said, ‘This is not what I want any more.’ Or until you realized that when it came to sex you could do better; “Hey Dean I’d like you to meet my new boyfriend - or girlfriend” - poly family or parade of farm animals, I’d try not to judge – and I’d try to be happy for you, and you know what, I’d _die_ inside. If we never kiss, I’ll never have to worry about someone kissing you better. If I feel like this before I’d ever even kissed you I’d be a dead man walking if you left, and I told myself I couldn’t go there. Better half a loaf than no bread. That’s what I keep on telling myself, too. Maybe it’s selfish, and short-sighted and cowardly, but I’m human. Cas, I’m only human.” Dean sniffed.

Castiel snored again, a long, helpless ratcheting noise that ended in a murmured sigh.

“So Cas, I’m gonna pretend this never happened. That I don’t look in your eyes and see my soulmate.”

A shiver, invisible to Dean, pulsed through Castiel’s body. His breathing quickened.

“I’m gonna pretend I don’t want to pry you out of your clothes and make love to you as sweet and gentle and joyful and hot and filthy as I can.”

Cas tried to moan, and couldn’t.

“I’m gonna pretend I don’t want to wake up in your arms every morning and hold you in my arms every night.”

Cas tried to cry out, and couldn’t.

“Because you’re my friend. The greedy selfish one is me. I can’t bear the idea of losing you so we’re both going to have to close the door on this. I know we’d both like it to be different, and I know you can put up with a lot, but you’re an angel, and I’m just one very fucked up and not particularly special guy.”

Dean stopped talking.He turned the music on. After a few more minutes he stopped for gas.

Cas woke up from his stupor as soon as the Dean’s door opened and the breeze and the smell of gas hit him.

“Sleeping Beauty!” Dean said, seeing Castiel’s eyes open.

“Wasn’t she woken with a kiss?” Cas asked blearily.

“It lives, awesome!” Dean said, skating over the word kiss with a practiced ease that hid how Cas could make his heart stammer with a casual remark. “You’ll probably need more fluids; if I’m right and you got some molly in your soda you’ll be dehydrated as fuck.”

“I feel tacky.”

Dean decided to tease his friend. Better than being awkward and earnest, right? “If there’s anything tackier than getting roofied at a bar patronized by vamps, I’d like to know what it could be!”

“That was foolish, not tacky,” Castiel groused.

“We’re almost home,” Dean promised.

“That’s good,” Cas broke into a cavernous yawn, “I could sleep.” He felt cold.

It was as if nothing had happened.

Everything was different, and nothing had changed.

 

The next day, Castiel went to Sam and said, “I have an uncomfortable question to ask.”

“Shoot.”

“I want to look things up on the internet but I don’t want my search history to be looked at,” Castiel said.

“Sounds like _you_ want to watch some _porn_ ,” Sam teased.

“Maybe,” Cas said, which made Sam’s eyebrows lift and separate. He didn’t want to lie to Sam and compound his troubles. “I definitely want to do some research for, uh, personal reasons, but I don’t have any, uh, ill-intent.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam said, and with Sam’s trademark tact and helpfulness, got to the task at hand without asking a single pointed question.

Sam showed him how to toast his browser history and gave him a tutorial on anonymous browsing. Castiel said, “Thank you,” and took the laptop that Sam and Dean had given him for his last ‘birthday’ back to his room.

Then, when he was sufficiently anonymous, he typed, “What do gay men do in bed,” into the search engine.

Over the course of his angelic life, he’d watched many humans have sex in many ways, but not recently, and he’d learned from Dean in a rather off-hand way that porn was not good sex education. So he thought he’d spare himself some embarrassment and get some facts, if he was seriously considering being a participant instead of an observer. Also, he’d learned from Dean that there are fashions in sexuality.He was somewhat relieved that, since he was not a porn star, he would not be required to bleach his anus, since the mere idea of it made him feel intensely uncomfortable. And then there was the whole issue of anal sex.

He felt a little strange reading that one third of gay men never have anal sex. It was right there in black and white, and the study had enough participants that it was possible, even likely, that it was accurate. Castiel felt a little confused. On the basis of some rude things Dean had said in the past, he was under the impression that it was _the_ gay man’s number one most wanted sex act, but apparently not. Sam never made homophobic remarks, but Dean occasionally used words like ‘fudge-packers’ when referring to gay men.

As he searched, he stumbled over a link about internalized homophobia. He remembered a couple of cryptic - and unpleasant - things that Dean had said about his father. Cas found a checklist of ways that internalized homophobia could manifest itself in a person’s behaviour, and while the list as a whole didn’t sound much like Dean, for a couple of the items Cas inhaled sharply, thinking of Dean doing exactly what was being described.

Castiel closed the laptop. He had a lot to think about. It was all very complicated, and there was a lot that could go wrong.

But a lot could go right, too. He thought of Dean, moaning in ecstasy in his arms, and that seemed to make all this research and sneaking around worth it.

Dean was having a nightcap at the map table, and Cas joined him.

“Whiskey, barkeep,” Castiel said, trying to be funny.

Dean gave a lop-sided grin and poured him a shot.

“You all recovered from your orbital re-entry?” Dean asked.

“More or less.”

“You were pretty messed up.”

“I was. The worst part was being able to hear without being able to move,” Castiel said deliberately. He tossed back the shot and then looked directly at Dean, raising his eyebrows.

Dean frowned for a second. Then the great light dawned. Dean went white and looked stricken.

“It was a most illuminating, if rather one-sided, communication,” Castiel continued.

“Cas, man, I don’t know what you think you heard, but I –“ Dean said hurriedly.

Cas interrupted. “I know what I heard. Don’t change the subject, make a joke or say one word right now. You want me as much as I want you, but you’ve decided to be – noble.”

_Go ahead, Dean. Deny it._

Dean swallowed hard and took a sharply inhaled breath. “Look, I get that you want the outcome to be different, but I’m not interested in having sex with you, and this is not a negotiation.”

“Oh, I agree that it’s not a negotiation,” Castiel said calmly. “And who said anything about sex?”

“We’re done here,” Dean said raggedly, and tried to go his room.Smiling, Cas got up and blocked his way. Dean halted, as if even the idea of touching Cas scared him.

“We’re not done. We haven’t even started,” Cas said.

“If you heard what I said, maybe you should have been listening a little harder,” Dean said, backing up a bit more. Without looking at Cas, he said, “If it makes you happier, fine, I’ll admit you’re hot, but nothing is going to happen because it’s not in our best interest as hunters.”

“As hunters? Dean, our enemies have used our friendship against us half a dozen times at least, maybe more. How would us swapping spit change that?”

“Don’t – say that,” Dean said, looking scandalized.

“What? You’re allowed to say flippant things about intimacy and I’m not?” Castiel asked in his most reasonable tone.“Or would you prefer sweet nothings? I still don’t know what they are, though, you’d have to train me. ”

Dean, who had detailed, vivid and recurring fantasies about Cas growling dirty-sweet nothings in his ear while grinding against him, felt like his heart was going to stop.

He took a deep breath and tried to say something to show that he had Castiel’s best interests at heart. “I figure you would have more fun and less hassle with someone who doesn’t know you’re an angel,” Dean said.

“More fun and less hassle,” Cas said slowly. “You are presuming to tell me who I should find sexually attractive, and you further presume to tell me that when I find this person I should lie to them about my nature.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Dean said. “And you’re not experienced enough to know what you want. It takes a while, you know.”

“Dean, I’ve known you a decade. For most of that time I’ve been your staunchest ally, barring only your brother. As an angel, I’m literally _older than Methuselah_ , and my vessel is a body belonging to an adult human man. For you to say with a straight face that I don’t know what I want is ludicrous at best and deeply insulting at worst.”

Dean doubled down. “You’re only a pre-teen in terms of how long you’ve been human,” Dean said. “That makes me a pretty sick puppy for wanting to get with you. Plus the whole ‘two separate species’ thing.There’s a lot wrong with us for even thinking about it.”

Castiel shook his head.Dean was now getting close to the bottom of the excuses barrel; each one sounded progressively limper and more disingenuous.“But you _do_ think about it, Dean.You told me you wanted to pry me out of my clothes and make love to me, which I have to say sounds like exactly what I want to happen, although I’m a little unclear on the mechanics. I want to believe that we’ve worked so well as a team - for the most part - over the last few years, that I’m worrying about nothing.”

Dean’s mouth opened and closed once. There was a ragged breath and he said, “What about Sam? How about a little consideration for him? How do you think he’d feel about it?” Dean said. Now he sounded pompous. It was all part of him getting very tangled and shouty.

They both started guiltily and swung around at Sam’s voice; Dean looked angry and then hangdog; Castiel concerned and then somewhat relieved.

“How would I feel about what?” Sam asked.

He looked at them and said, on the basis of nothing more than their expressions and posture, “Holy crap, what’s going _on_ with you two?”

Castiel decided that Dean could field this one, and anyway, Sam could have heard enough to hang both of them. Despite his size, in his socked feet on terrazzo floors he was as quiet as a cat.

Downcast, Cas thought Dean could wiggle out of explaining the argument any way he wanted to, including lying his ass off (as was most likely.)

“Dean and I are having a heated discussion about a private matter. We’re at an impasse,” Cas said as smoothly as he could manage. He almost sounded cold, unless you knew him well. The back of Sam’s neck prickled.

“It’s not an impasse, it’s a hard fucking stop, Cas, and you know it,” Dean said.

“Well, then,” Castiel said. “You make your arguments to your brother, as he is just the person to help you refine them, and I’ll catch up with you later.”

Sam called after him, and Cas paused, head to one side, without turning around. “Cas, is that sarcasm? I don’t know what the undercurrents are here. Maybe I shouldn’t have anything to do with this conversation.”

Cas said “I’ll talk to you later,” and went to his room.

“Dean, what the hell is going on?” Sam asked, and his voice was not kind.

“None of your goddamned business,” Dean said.

Sam took a breath and studied his brother for a moment. In a more peaceful tone, he said carefully, “You just asked Cas what about me and my feelings, so that bell’s been rung! What is it Cas is being inconsiderate to me about?”

“Sam, if this was something to do with a case, or hunting, I’d be asking for your help to settle our differences,” Dean said. “But this is something personal, to do with me and Cas continuing to be under the same roof.”

“Then it damn well does have something to do with me. Dude, I don’t want Cas to leave.” Sam said.

“I may not give him a choice,” Dean said. That turned out to be an extremely ill-advised thing to say to Sam.

“Oh my god, Dean,” Sam said, and sat down abruptly. “Did you and Cas… did you … are you _dumping_ him?”

“What? No! It’s not like that.”

“Okay, explain it to me.”

“We’re still friends,” Dean said.

“Really,” Sam said, smiling crookedly. “That looked like a lover’s quarrel.”

Dean chewed his way through his reply. “Cas is _not_ my boyfriend. We aren’t lovers now, we haven’t been in the past, and we won’t be in the future.”

“So, _he’s_ dumping _you_?”

“Quit saying that!”

“Use your words,” Sam encouraged.

“Bitch,” Dean said, trying to lighten things up.

“Jerk,” Sam said, but there was no laughter in his voice. “Cas is my best friend too, you know. You’re hurting him, I could tell with one quick look at the two of you! Can you stop hurting my friend, please?”

“Fine!” Dean exploded. “Tell him to quit bugging me for sex, I’m straight!”

Sam sat as still as stone and let it sink in.

“Uh, yeah,” Sam said. “I guess that would be a problem.”

“I don’t have a problem working with him on cases in the future, as long as he knows not to harass me about getting his angel jollies and I don’t have to sleep in the same room with him,” Dean said. “But you can see how this would impact us living in the same place.”

“Yes,” Sam said slowly. “I do.”

He got up and said, pursing his lips in the way that said he was having to think twice about how to phrase it, “I am going to get Cas’s take on things.”

 

Cas wouldn’t open his door. He said, with perfect civility, “It’s not my intention to come between you and your brother. I’ll leave if it comes to that. I have no quarrel with Dean’s version of events, whatever they are.”

“Have you been ‘bugging him for sex’?”

“It’s interesting that he’d put it that way. I became very um, declamatory and amatory under the influence of something called a club drug.”

“You did molly… ecstasy?” Sam said, trying to work out what happened.

“Involuntarily. I apparently fondled him a lot. I nearly made him crash the car. Somewhere in there I gave a long speech about how much I loved him and how important he was to me, and then, as they say, it got weird.”

“You shut the hell up,” Dean said, not quite screeching as he came down the hall.

“Couldn’t stay away,” Sam said, covering his face with his hands.

“You shut the hell up too.”

“Well, I’m done here,” Sam said. “I definitely know this is a lover’s spat now, and I don’t want to get any on me.” Shaking his head, he walked swiftly away in the direction of the library.

*

The atmosphere in the bunker after that, if not poisonous, was certainly unpleasant.

After an entire day of tiptoeing around, Sam, Cas and Dean somehow ended up in the kitchen after supper. Nobody said anything. Sam thought he could hear his heart beating, it was so damned quiet.

“Well, I really don’t want to be here. In fact, I think I’m going to go for a night run, maybe do wind sprints until my legs turn to jelly.” Making a face at Dean, he made a great show of leaving.

Cas fled back to his room. Dean slowly followed. He paused outside his door, listening.

Cas knew he was there and spoke through the door, “Now that you’re outside my door, can we keep talking? I’ll stay on this side and I won’t bug you for sex, I promise,” Cas said. “We could be polite and speak face to face – or you could tell me to shut up again.”

Dean sounded distraught. “Cas, I can’t have sex with you. It would mess me up.”

“How?”

“Emotionally.”

“Dean, I’ve seen a lot of sexual relationships from my very strange and limited perspective. Some of them are good for the people in them and some are bad. Do you honestly think having sex with me would be bad for you?”

Dean said, as if he could not bring himself to lie about it, “No, dumbass, I’d have a blast! _You’re_ the one who’d suffer. I can’t stand the idea of hurting you. Of – of failing you.”

Castiel squeezed his eyelids together. _Yes_. “Ah. You’re protecting me from the horrific consequences of having sex with you. I think I’d know if you had a sexually transmitted disease. I don’t think you can get me pregnant, although I suppose I should check the archives before I make a definitive –“

“Cas, I just heard the front door slam, I think Sam has left.”

“Relax, I can’t commit an outrage on your virtue from the wrong side of this door,” Cas said softly.

“I don’t have any virtue,” Dean said. “It’s yours I’m worried about.”

“Really?” Cas said. ‘I thought if you debauched me and then chose to protect me against the unwanted attentions of potential rivals afterward, you’d be _protecting_ my virtue, not injuring it. At least in some senses of the word.”

“You can’t word your way out of this,” Dean said.

“Eight monosyllables, and yet you sound like a genius. I really don’t understand how you do it,” Castiel said leaning against the door with a dreamy smile. “Go to sleep Dean. I’ll be gone in the morning, and you can quit worrying about me creeping into your bed to lick your earlobe, or whatever it is you’re convinced I’m going to do to you.”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean said. He’d gone cold inside when Castiel said ‘gone in the morning.’

“You’ll have to gag me,” Castiel said. “Or go back to your lonely bed and lie awake congratulating yourself that you’ve saved me from whatever horrible things you were planning on doing to me anyway – in your fantasies.”

“You’re leaving,” Dean said.

“Not until Sam gets home, I’m not opening this door without a chaperone,” Castiel said reasonably. “You should go back to your room.”

“Cas, you don’t have to leave,” Dean said after a while. He put his hand against the door.

“You can’t have it both ways, Dean. You can’t tell me you want me and then pretend you don’t because your feelings are inconvenient. I’ll let you two know where I am. I won’t disappear, I just won’t be here.”

Dean sat on the floor and swiped his hand over his face. He forced himself to calm his ragged breathing, and waited for Cas to come out.

“Dean?” Cas said through the door. “Dean?” Hearing nothing, Castiel’s expression lost all its hope, and he turned and walked to his bed and sat. After a minute he got out his duffel and started to pack. He’d meant what he said about coming between the brothers, and it didn’t seem like Dean was going to accept anything Castiel had to offer him. Threatening to leave and not going would be too much to ask of either of the Winchesters, and he tried to keep their well-being in mind as he packed, although it was all a bit overwhelming. Dean had been right, after all, keeping ‘that door’ closed.

They’d been so close. So frustratingly, agonizingly close. It seemed strange to be wanted so much whenever he couldn’t respond, and rejected and pushed away when he could.

Dean heard drawers open and close through the door and wept in earnest, trying as hard as he could to make no noise at all.

Castiel got to the point in his packing when he realized that two of Dean’s t-shirts had migrated into his clean clothes. It would be dishonest to take them and Dean probably wanted them back. He walked as quietly as he could to his door and put his ear against it, the folded shirts in his hands. Hearing nothing, he opened the door. Dean leapt up, appeal on his face.

Castiel said, stupidly, “Oh, I thought you might like these back,” and tried to hand him the shirts.

For one teetering second Castiel thought Dean would push past him into the room. Then Dean looked down, accepted the shirts, and walked away with a muttered thanks.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. Then he swung open the door and left it like that, in case Dean came back, wanting to talk. It suddenly hit him. He felt his knees get shaky, so he sat down. _This is it. He wants me, but not enough to be honest with himself. I won’t be trapped in the lies he tells himself just so I can have whatever this is. In the end, this is what Dean wants. To be abandoned, to prove that he’s worthless. And if that’s what he wants, that’s what I’ll give him. If I stay, he’ll only try to drive me away, because he’s_ embarrassed.

_It all seems so pointlessly stupid and human._

 

Back in his room, Dean contemplated his future with a misery that threatened to swamp his mind. When Cas had moved into the bunker it had been about convenience and research, as well as breaking up the monotony of only having Sam around. The angel had always come and gone, sometimes for a very long time, but now that very long time looked like it would be forever.

The half a loaf had become no bread, and it was his own fault. Cas had been honest with him, painfully honest, and his reaction had been to act as if he’d been disgusted by him, rather than terrified of hurting him with his thoughtless, childish neediness. When he thought of trying to apologize, words ganged up on him like werewolves and left him bleeding on the ground.

And what was he apologizing for? Being obsessed? Being greedy? All of that. But mostly for being angry that Cas thought happiness was possible, let alone normal. “I hate you for being an optimist,” was not exactly an apology. “You scare me by thinking we have a future as a couple,” was not an apology either, but it at least was closer to the truth.

He went to his laptop and looked up “How to apologize” since it was increasingly clear that it wasn’t really part of his skillset and he didn’t want to fuck it up.

When he thought he had most of the wording right in his own mind, he went, like a man to his own hanging, to Castiel’s room.

The door was open, the lights were off, and Cas was gone.

“No, no, no NO!” Dean yelled, and booked it to the garage.

The Continental was gone too. Cas had left without saying goodbye.

 


	2. And when you touch down

Cas, meanwhile, wishing to spare Dean anything resembling a chick flick scene, drove down this very familiar stretch of road. Even in the dark he knew it well. He smiled as he saw Sam, outlined in reflector tape, walking briskly by the side of the road, and pulled over.

“I’m heading out early,” Cas said, unnecessarily.“Want a lift back?”

“Uh, sure,” Sam said. He got in and said, “How’s Dean taking your departure, or is that a stupid question?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t think saying goodbye was a good idea. He’s not very rational at the moment.”

“Please, Cas! At least say a proper goodbye, especially if this is it and you’re not coming back. And I know I’m not the first of your concerns, but I am going to miss you. A lot.”

“I’ll miss you too, Sam. You’re the truest friend I have,” Castiel said.

“More than Dean?” Sam asked in astonishment.

“I wouldn’t describe what Dean and I are feeling right now as friendship,” Castiel said drily.

“What happened?”

“You’ll have to ask Dean.I love him, but not enough to subsidize his self-hatred by pretending we don’t have feelings for each other.”

Sam’s eyes widened to their fullest extent at Castiel’s insight, and he thought savagely that Dean was being an even bigger Idiot-in-Denial than usual. “I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s a sad and ugly situation. Maybe saying nothing is the kindest and wisest thing you can do, but I won’t tell you - the kindest and wisest person I know - how to behave.”

“Really? That’s quite a compliment, Cas.” There was a certain brag factor to having an angel tell you that you’re kind and wise; you’d have to think they would know about both.

“You’re both very remarkable men, and I’ve been fortunate beyond words to share your lives these last years.”

They rode in silence the rest of the way.

“I can’t go in,” Cas said, as he turned the engine off.

“I understand,” Sam said, nodding. He got out of the car and, pulling the knife that he kept strapped to his ankle when he went running, he slashed the front passenger side tire.

“Sam! What did you do?” Cas said, astonished. The car sagged.

“Bought some time. Maybe Dean will come out before you can change your tire, maybe he won’t, but you’d better get a move on.”

It was a warm night, and after he set up the jack to take the pressure off the rim, Castiel had a bad attack of no longer much caring what happened next.

He crossed the road to the bunker’s makeshift range and sat in one of the clapped-out folding chairs. After a moment he remembered that Dean sometimes left beer in a half buried cooler, and was amazed to find half a dozen beers sitting there, not exactly cold but drinkable.

The stars returned to their place in the heavens after being outshone by the sun. Life continued. The crickets and night-calling birds buzzed and trilled. Far off, he could hear someone rev a motorcycle up to the redline. Nearer, a dog barked.

He heard the bunker door groan shut. He took another pull at the beer and didn’t even turn around. After all these years, he knew Dean’s tread, over grass, over gravel… _over my heart. Ha ha, very funny._

Dean spoke first. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth earlier. I don’t know how to fix this.”

“It’s not your job to fix anything. Nothing’s broken,” Cas said. “Help yourself to a beer, a thoughtful person left us some.”

“Do you want help with the flat?” Dean asked. “Sam told me.”

“I’ll stay the night. It’s off the rim, anyway. I’m sorry I left without a proper goodbye.”

“What does a proper goodbye look like, Cas?” Dean asked helplessly.

“Mm. I’ll be back in a minute,” Cas said. He put his beer down and got the blanket out the back of the Continental.

He spread it out over the softest and flattest patch of grass he could find and lay down on one half of it. “Why don’t we say goodbye by lying down side by side and making a pleasant memory, Dean?”

“I don’t want to say goodbye,” Dean said in a husky voice.

“I don’t either, which is why I didn’t,” Cas said. “Please bring me my beer.”

Dean obliged, but he went back to his chair.

“Come say goodbye, Dean,” Cas said.

“I’ll go change that tire,” Dean said.

“Keep your hands off my car,” Cas said pleasantly. “I’ll deal with it when I have enough light in the morning. You don’t have to touch me, or look at me, or talk to me, or listen to me. Just lie next to me.”

Slowly, as if ill, or frightened, Dean crept toward Cas. He lay down next to him, heart almost rattling, and willed himself to relax.

_I’m lying next to Cas. Last chance to make a move._

He didn’t move. He could feel Cas’s shoulder against his, but nothing else. He thought about reaching for the closest hand, of holding his hand when he wasn’t trying to pull him out of Purgatory or help him up after a fight. He couldn’t. He almost expected Cas to get handsy but he stayed still and quiet, as he had promised.

The mosquitoes came. After two minutes and much swatting, “Oh well,” Cas said, philosophically.

He stood, and Dean sprang to his feet. Cas shook out the blanket and returned it to the car.

“I forgot to give you back this,” Cas said, handing over the ornately carved key for the bunker’s front door. They had had to change the locks.

Dean’s heart banged against his ribs like a mallet. His breastbone hurt, like he’d been punched.

“Thanks,” he said, a little breathlessly. He opened the front door and pocketed the key.

Cas said, “I’ll be here for the night and after I change the tire I’ll leave in the morning. I know Sam means well. I know you do too.” Castiel gave his slow, generous, affectionate smile, and said, “Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean went to the garage for the trouble light and changed the tire on the Continental.It wasn’t much, and it might be interpreted as shoving Cas out the door, but he didn’t care. It was something he could do for his friend. Sam did mean well, but he sometimes had an inconvenient way of showing it.

As he returned to his room he detoured slightly. The lights were off, but Cas’s door was ajar. Dean, his heart in his mouth, knocked three times, quietly.

“Sam?”

“No,” Dean said hoarsely.

“Come in,” Cas said. He sounded not exactly angry, but perturbed. “Leave the light off.”

“Okay,” and next came the question of where to sit or stand. He stumbled over to Cas’s desk and sat there.

There was a long silence. Finally, there was a rustle of sheets and Cas said, “Was there something particular you wanted to talk about?”

Dean gave a little grunt of laughter. “No, not really. Will you ever be coming back for visits?”

“For a hunt,” Castiel said.

“Where you headed next,” Dean asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

“Sioux Falls.”

“Makes sense.”

“And it’s not too long a drive.I’m liking long drives less and less, although once Sam got me set up with some decent podcasts, it’s not as difficult anymore.”

“Like what kind of podcasts?”

“Mostly science and nature, a couple that are sort of more, I don’t know, of a sociological bent.”

“Is there one in there about bees?”

“How did you guess?” Cas said. Dean could hear the smile in his voice and smiled into the darkness as well.

There was another long pause. A couple of possible subjects came up, and then a few more, and each one Dean rejected as being too generic, too nosy, too trivial or too likely to wander into topics Dean was not prepared to speak about.

Cas wasn’t one to fill a silence with trivia. “I’m not going to be able to sleep as long as you’re sitting over there, Dean, so why don’t you –“

Dean jumped to his feet and said, “Yeah, sure, sorry – I’ll get going.”

“I was going to say come over here and lie down. There’s no stars this time, though, but markedly fewer mosquitoes.”

Dean walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. Cas moved over to make room for him, and lifted the blanket. Dean shucked his shoes and lay down.

Almost immediately he realized that Cas was naked, which he had not been expecting, as Cas had worn pyjamas since Sam’s irritated lecture about wandering around the bunker in his birthday suit. He thought about commenting, but there was no way _that_ would end without embarrassment so he kept his piehole shut.

The next thing he realized that while it had been easy to ignore outdoors, it was impossible to ignore Cas’s smell while lying next to him in his bed. It was a compilation of soap, sweat, shampoo and something impossible to identify.It might has well have been bottled and labelled “Dean’s Catnip Blend” for the effect on him, though.

 _He’s naked and he smells good, and he thinks I’m going to let him sleep_.

Cas turned on his side, away from Dean, and against all expectation, after a few minutes appeared to slumber.

 _That’s what got me in trouble the last time,_ Dean thought. _Thinking he was asleep._

Slowly and carefully he got up, stripped down to his briefs, and got back into bed. Then, as stealthily as he could, he put an arm over his special friend, his angel, who promptly woke up and muttered something. Then louder, he said, “Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas.”

“Is this called spooning?”

“Last I checked, yeah.”

“What if I want to turn over?”

“Your partner turns over too and you face the other way,” Dean said. “Long term partners can do it in their sleep.”

“I’m going to turn over. Dean, you were supposed to turn over.”

“I wanna kiss you,” Dean said. He almost sounded casual, like it was not really the biggest deal of his entire life and that Castiel’s sweet breath in his face was not making his balls tighten.

Cas was dubious. “So you can feel awful and guilty about it later?”

Dean tried to sound seductive. “Mebbe. Mebbe I won’t. I could just feel awfully good about it right now.”

“That sounds like senseless hedonism,” Cas said.

“Definitely something I’d never want the Winchester name associated with. When it comes to hedonism, though, it’s been a while since I kissed a guy. May I kiss you?”

“Only if there’s an educational component,” Castiel said.

Dean frowned in confusion, something he did rather well.

“What … what am I supposed to be teaching you?”

“How to kiss you goodbye,” Cas said.

Dean’s heart sank, but he tried to keep it light. “Oh, that’s an advanced class. We’re in the beginner’s class here.”

“What’s on the syllabus, then?”

“Peck on the lips,” Dean said, and pecked Cas on the lips.

“I’m not exactly swooning in delight here, Dean,” Cas said, after he recovered from the shock. It wasn’t really how he’d imagined it, although being this close to Dean, when he was wearing an amulet, briefs and nothing else, was coming close to prompting a fainting spell all on its own.

“You’re not supposed to be swooning in delight. That’s like an intimate family kiss, no tongue.”

“If Sam saw us kissing like that –“

“Aw hell no. I don’t kiss my brother like that, and yes, it’ll look like we’re a - an item if we did that in front of Sam.”

“Which we aren’t,” Cas said. “So it’s not something we’d do in public.”

“I’m not ashamed of you, Cas, I’m ashamed of _me_. I’m not in your league.”

“Who would be in my league, Dean?”

“Nobody,” Dean said. “Let your jaw go a bit limp.”

“Is this when things get more educational?”

“I’m learning lots, but I think it’s because of how smart my lab partner is,” Dean said.

“I can’t be _that_ smart, I don’t know what to do with my hands.”

“Whatever you want,” Dean said, and was rewarded as one of his angel’s hands drifted down to hold the small of his back and the other came up to caress his jawline.

Dean tilted his head, kissed Cas and parted his lips as gently and smoothly as he could manage. Cas responded with equally gentle suction. That made Dean feel like the bed spun once, and he opened his eyes to get his bearings. Dean moaned and cupped Cas’s face in his hands and they kissed for maybe ten minutes, getting sloppier and more enthusiastic as they went.

A thread of Cas’s pre-cum made its cold and sexy presence known across the top of Dean’s left thigh. The front of Dean’s briefs was soaked. He rolled onto his back.

“Is that an invitation?” Cas said.

“To what, catch your breath?” Dean said, panting.

“I could do that,” Cas said. He curled up in the crook of Dean’s arm and started caressing and stroking his chest. Dean’s sighs of contentment turned into a yelp of surprise as one of Cas’s hands assessed his erection through his briefs.

“Be careful there tiger, I could let go right now,” Dean said. He thought about how Sam might see or hear something through the still-ajar door, and got up.

“No, Dean, I didn’t mean you to… Dean!” Cas called in distress.

“I’m just closing the door, Cas,” Dean said. The door snicked shut, and he locked it.

“Oh. Oh, right,” Cas said.

“Can I ask a favor?” Dean said shyly.

“Anything,” Cas said. He sounded as if he meant it. Dean’s heart, so recently beaten down, soared.

“If that isn’t an invitation I don’t know what is. Um. Can we turn a light on? This is … unbelievably hot and I’m about as horny as I can be and still make sense when I talk, but I’d really like to _see_ you.” _I want to look in your face when I make you come_ , he thought, but he was too shy, still, even now, to say it.

Cas clicked the bedside lamp on. His face was flushed, his lips puffy and his hair tousled. His smile could melt a heart of granite.

Dean got back in bed. Cas kissed his jawline, and then sucked on an earlobe, while Dean’ shoulders twitched.

“You respond to everything I do,” Cas said, in wonderment. His hand slid toward Dean’s crotch again. Dean imprisoned that hand in one of his own. “We don’t have to do anything else, if you don’t want to.”

“Why would you want to stop?” Cas said, somewhat distressed. “I thought we were, well.”

“We were what,” Dean said.

“Communicating. Physically,” Cas said. “And emotionally. And feeling safe.”

“Safe!” Dean said. “I don’t have any. Safes, I mean.”

“Do we need them?” Cas asked.

“What were you thinking?”

“Mutual masturbation,” Cas said.

“Oh,” Dean said.

“Or take turns, and then we can kiss at the same time,” Cas said.

“Oh,” Dean said.

“You don’t sound enthusiastic,” Cas said, sounding worried again.

“That’s because when you talk dirty, in that unbelievably sexy voice, I stop being able to think and talk,” Dean said.

“What did I say that was dirty,” Cas said.

“Mutual masturbation…. I damned near blew my load right then.”

“What do you want me to say to you? This sounds like something I’d be terrible at.”

“Do you want to have sex with me?” Cas’s hand squeezed Dean’s dick through his now slick briefs.

“I thought I was,” Cas said. There was that worried tone again. “Having sex with you, I mean. Once I’ve handled your genitalia, with intent, I’m committed, right?”

“Nope,” Dean said. “You can ask to stop any time. But I don’t want you to stop _anything_ you’re doing. Like right now, oh, _Jesus,_ Cas.”

“Do I really turn you on?” Cas said, like he was worried about that.

“So hard, oh yeah,” and here Dean stopped to keen, and then pant, “I think you broke the off button and smashed it to pieces. It’s not turning me _on_ that’s going to be the problem, which is exactly what I _thought_ would happen. Yeah, like that. I’m taking these suckers off before they harden onto me like a frikkin’ cast,” Dean said, and literally peeled off his briefs.

“Finally,” Cas sighed. “Let me see all of you! It’s been so long.”

_That was disturbing but oh what’s happening._

Both of Cas’s hands closed over Dean’s hard-on. One thumb rolled over the head of his cock, distributing pre-cum, and Dean lay back and gave a strangled gasp.

He thought to say, as his partner stroked him, now firmly, now gently, “Do I really turn you on?”

Cas bent his head over Dean’s cock and as Dean watched in lustful anticipation, flicked his tongue over the hole.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Dean said. He was amazed he could still talk.

“I think it was a really good idea to turn the light on,” Cas said, with sincerity.

“I do some of my best thinking in bed,” Dean said.

“Maybe you can help me then,” Cas said.

“Helping you in bed is going to be my number, ah, one, ah, concern from now on,” Dean said. He emitted a couple of grunts as Cas pulled and squeezed his cock.

“That seems unnecessarily obsessive,” Cas said. He never paused in his firm strokes. “I just wanted to know if pain in the, er, testicles is normal.”

“Oh, it’s blue balls, man. As soon as you come you’ll feel better.”

“Can you help me come?” Castiel asked earnestly.

Dean emitted one of his freakish giggles. “I’m going to make you come so hard your legs will buckle and I’ll have to carry you to the can to clean up,” Dean promised.

“We could rub up against each other until we both come,” Cas said helpfully.

“Whatever you want, Cas, I’ll do anything for you I’m physically capable of,” Dean sighed.

Cas climbed on top of him. Their dicks touched, and then rested side by side as Cas thrusted against him and moaned.

“You’re on top,” Dean said, almost in surprise. Cas’s mouth came down and silenced him in a kiss. The sound of Cas moaning into his mouth, the smell of him, sweaty and horny and the taste of his tongue, the feel of his pubic hair scratching into his, the heat of Cas’s dick next to his own as they rubbed against each other was mesmerizing, thrilling, overwhelming. Dean could feel his orgasm bubbling up through his whole body. Cas sped up and arched his back and came, pulling fiercely on the tops of Dean’s shoulders. _Gonna have bruises there later!_ Cas immediately became hypersensitive and his hip movements slowed and stopped.

“Did I wreck your orgasm?”

“Oh no,” Dean laughed, and then he groaned. “Quit worrying about me.”

Cas said, “I want it to be perfect.”

“Will you settle for completely and totally mind-blowing, super-fucking-hot and really relaxed?”

“You make it sound better than perfect,” Cas admitted.

“That’s because it is. On your back, soldier, I’m gonna paint your stomach.” They swapped spots.

Castiel very helpfully grabbed his ass at a critical point and Dean was babbling a word salad of endearments and blasphemy as he got close, and then said, rhythmically, “Cas, Cas, Cas, oh God, yeah, oh just like that!” as he came. He’d meant to keep his eyes open. When he was able to open his eyes, and then focus, he found Cas looking up at him with something resembling a frown.

“What!?” Dean said.

“Do you suppose we’ll get better at this?” Cas asked.

“Couples generally do,” Dean said. “There, I said it,” and he gnawed, tenderly and briefly, at Cas’s lower lip. “We’re a couple.”

“What a remarkably terrifying and wonderful prospect,” Cas said. “Now can we sleep?”

Dean snickered sleepily. “Baby wipes, man, we’re gonna have to invest in some baby wipes. In the meantime I’m gonna make do with my old briefs, which by the way I’m considering having bronzed, and then I suspect you and are gonna sleep like we’ve been drugged.”

“Technically, yes, oxytocin and endorphins,” Cas said.

“Don’t ever fuckin’ change,” Dean mumbled. He could feel consciousness wriggling out from under him. He sensed the gentle pressure of Cas cleaning them up, and then he was out cold.


	3. You'll find that it's stranger than known

Dean woke up with his head on someone warm, and prepped his “well hello, sweetheart, we made it to the other side” speech, and then realized that he was in the bunker and it was Cas’s thigh his head was resting on. The prepared remarks fled and were replaced with a whole lot of ‘I got nothin’.

Cas looked at him sympathetically. He was propped against the headboard, one hand holding open a paperback entitled The Forty Rules of Love, which in Dean’s view seemed excessive, and the other resting gently against Dean’s head. “Everything’s fine. You don’t have to go to your room, and we don’t have to talk.”

Dean groaned inwardly. “I don’t even have the excuse I was drunk,” he muttered.

“Regrets?”

To say yes would be a lie too far. “No,” Dean said.

“That’s good to hear.”

“We should probably shower.”

“Before we breakfast with Sam? It would be polite,” Cas said. The bed reeked of sex. Dean started, invisibly, to panic.

“Oh God, Sam,” he said.

“Dealt with,” Cas said. He put the book down.

“Whaddaya mean, ‘dealt with!” Dean said, jerking upright and facing him, finally.

“I spoke with him earlier. I told him I forgave him for shanking my tire and mentioned that you and I had – shared – intimacy.”

“No details though,” Dean said, his voice rasping.

“That would be nothing Sam wants to hear about,” Cas said. “Anyway, he’s been apprised. You can take care of telling your mother. Everyone else is need to know.”

“I’m not ashamed of you,” Dean muttered. “I’m just not ready to tell the world.” He reached up to his left shoulder with his right hand. _Yup, bruises._ He couldn’t help the reminiscent smile, which Cas caught in profile.

“What are you thinking about?” Cas asked gently, glad to see him smile.

“You said we didn’t have to talk,” Dean said, teasing and lying back again.

“No, we don’t.” He pretended to go back to his book.

After a minute, Dean’s panic revealed itself in a flailing desire to be elsewhere. “Think I’ll go get that shower.”

With a great show of casual ease, Dean rose, located his jeans and shirt, decided to abandon his briefs, and dressed.

Cas said, “Feel free to drop a kiss on my forehead on the way out the door,” at which Dean checked, looked just a little guilty and did as directed.

After the door closed, “So it begins,” Cas said portentously.

 

ONE HOUR PRIOR

 

Cas knocked on Sam’s door, dressed in an MOL bathrobe.

Sam was already up and dressed. 

“Cas!”

“Sorry to bother you,” Cas said.

“I slashed your tire last night. Forgive me?”

Cas had completely forgotten how Sam’s action had tipped the scales. “And then some!” he said. He smiled, and then became solemn again. “We’d better strategize, because in the words of the inimitable Dean Winchester, ‘shit’s gonna fly’”.

“Come in and sit down, please. Dude! What happened.”

“I suspect you don’t want details, but Dean and I are – “ and Cas stumbled to a halt.

“What?” Sam said, assuming the worst.

“We shared intimacy last night,” Cas said awkwardly.

Sam’s eyebrows went up and his mouth opened. He herded his facial muscles into a more friendly, open expression and said, “Well now, Cas, I – this is – How’s Dean?”

“Asleep. It’s when he wakes up that our troubles begin.”

“ _Our troubles?_ How’s that?”

“What happened the last time Dean was happy for any length of time?” Cas asked pointedly.

“I dunno. It’s never really happened.”

“Dean’s a cheerful man but not a naturally happy one,” Cas said. “His normal state is hunting, death, misery and wretched excess in compensation.”

Sam breathed, “Another Tuesday.”

“Exactly,” Cas said. “Once he determines that this strange emotion he’s experiencing is happiness, he’s going to do everything he possibly can to sabotage it.”

“Sounds like Dean,” Sam agreed.

“Sometime in the next twelve hours, he’s going to react to his new situation.”

“He’ll joke about it as if it’s no big thing,” Sam said.

“Or he’ll start drinking to have an excuse to say something unforgivable,” Cas said.

“He’ll pick fights with us,” Sam said.

“He’ll have sex with a strange woman to prove that he’s still the world’s manliest man,” Cas said.

“Or he’ll just take off, on some stupid pretext or other,” Sam concluded.

“Can you disable all the vehicles, including the Continental and the moped? I’d prefer it if you didn’t slash the tire, though, I don’t have another spare.” Cas followed this remark with the smile he reserved for his intimates (and small animals), and Sam, relieved past words that his brother had finally found a life partner worth his mettle, began rather helplessly to laugh.

When he had a grip on himself, Sam said, “When did you get so devious?”

“Dean Winchester is a very, very good teacher,” Cas said. He batted his eyelashes, and Sam produced a cheerful, “TMI! TMI!” Then he said, “I’ll go deal with the cars. Dean’s gonna be _pissed_ that I’m going to turn what he’s taught me about disabling vehicles on Baby, but what can ya do?”

“One’s best, for one’s friends and family, with no expectation of thanks,” Cas said.

“Oh, I think it’s pretty much a given that Dean’s _not_ going to thank us,” Sam said.

“He will eventually,” Cas said, and Sam hoped to hell the angel was right.

 

PRESENT

 

Cas’s phone buzzed. The text read, “Batteries out of vehicles and hidden. Just in case I did some other stuff too. We’re marooned.”

Cas’s response, “I’m deleting this text and you should too.”

“DVS!!” Sam texted back. Cas sighed. _It’s good to have real friends._

Dean poked his head into Cas’s room and said, “I’m thinking of heading into town for some supplies, want something?”

“We’re out of popcorn,” Cas said casually.

“‘Kay,” Dean said, and Cas picked up his phone and texted, “He’s heading into town.”

“Dun dun dun,” Sam texted back.

“Is that dramatic tv music.”

“Lol.”

“Delete this message too.” Cas warned.

“On it.”

 

Ninety seconds later, Dean, yelled down the hall, “Which’a you two sons’a bitches took out Baby’s battery?” He stomped into the kitchen and glared at Sam.

“Me,” Sam said, looking up from his coffee.

“Why the _fuck_ would you do anything to her without telling me?”

“‘Cause Cas asked me to,” Sam said. He sipped his coffee.

“I’m gonna wring his neck.”

“Sure you wouldn’t rather choke his chicken?” Sam called after him. “Probably be more fun!”

Cas, hearing the uproar, took a couple of deep breaths and braced himself.

His bedroom door banged open and Dean came through, blood in his eye.

“Baby is _off limits_.”

“Really? sex in her back seat was on my list,” Cas said with a troubled frown.

There was a short pause.

“You have a list.”

“I’ll make a note to remove having sex in the back seat of your car from that list,” Cas said. “I figured we could put down a blanket first, but I see your point.”

Dean got back to Baby. “Why are you stopping me from leaving?”

“I’m not. I’m taking care of you emotionally.”

“By fucking with my _car_?”

“Dean, you’re going to go into town. Maybe you’ll remember the popcorn, and maybe you won’t. What you _will_ remember is that nobody tells you what to do or how to feel, and since we turned the vamp case over to Mary, you’re at loose ends. Instead of coming home to me for hopefully some more very satisfying sex, you’ll probably end up in a bar, and then you’ll get drunk enough to say, “Cas isn’t the boss of me,” and you’ll pick up some lucky woman, and then you’ll feel too guilty to come home, so you’ll sleep in the car or at her place and come home in the morning and then hide in your room.”

A couple of times during Cas’s dry delivery of these speculations, Dean’s mouth opened and he drew breath to speak, but he waited, his eyes losing their shine, until Cas was finished.

“You don’t know that any of that’s true. It’s just what you’re worried about.”

“Am I? If I had nothing to worry about, you’d have asked me to join you.”

Dean, bullseyed by Cas’s insight, pulled a face.

 _Here it comes,_ Cas thought.

“I think you’re assuming too much because we’ve had sex,” Dean said coldly.

“I think you’re terrified,” Cas said. “And you will be until you figure out what your new normal is. Dean, hear me out.” Dean tipped his head back, shut his eyes, shook his head, and then, most unwillingly, shut up and listened.

“You don’t have to change a thing. Not a thing. Except driving when you’re over the legal limit, I’d like you to stop doing that. If you want to sleep with other people, I’m okay with that. If you want to stay out all night drinking - provided you’re not driving - I’m okay with that. If you want to disappear every time we have a fight, I’m not okay with it, but I’ll deal. If you want to act as if we’re not involved when we’re in public, I’m okay with that. If you never kiss me or hold hands with me in public, I’m okay with that too. This is Kansas, after all, and I’m socially awkward, not insane.”

Dean threw himself into Cas’s chair.

“You’re okay with me sleeping with other people.”

Cas tried to inject a little humour into his response. “You could fuck the Red Army Chorus and take on the Rockettes for dessert and I’d be impressed with your stamina, but I wouldn’t comment on your morals and it wouldn’t make me question your commitment to me,” Cas said. “In a minute Sam will have the battery back in the Impala and you can leave. I just wanted a chance to talk to you before you left, that’s all.”

“You’re managing me,” Dean said in disgust.

“I can’t _manage_ you, Dean,” Cas said. “All I can do is love you, and take responsibility for my own actions.”

“Your own actions,” Dean said nodding in the way that indicated disbelief. “So, what, you get to sleep with other people, too?”

“If any of the people I was attracted to, besides you, were still alive, we could talk about it. Perhaps one day I’ll meet someone else I can feel sexually comfortable with, but it seems unlikely to me.”

Dean considered ‘his Cas’ sleeping with someone else and felt the walls close in and the floor drop out from under him. That mouth, kissing someone else, and enjoying it. That dick, coming between greedy lips. That perfect ass parted by someone else’s dick. Dean swallowed.

But there was a fix for that.

“You don’t get to sleep with other people,” Dean said. He got up and slammed the door shut from the inside, locked it and said, “I’m going to keep you _way_ too busy.”

“Dean – ?”

“Had your shower?” Dean asked innocently. “I have an idea.” He sat on the bed and looked at Cas in a way that made his heart speed up. Dean looked down. “Oh, and look, you changed the sheets.”

“They were a little… I think the word is crusty,” Cas said.

“Now ain’t that a shame,” Dean said. “You’re gonna hafta wash ‘em again.” He leaned forward and Cas, eyes wide, sidled over to make room for him.

“Is me blowing you on your list?”

Cas was visibly breathing faster and his eyes were huge and black. “Dean, I wasn’t trying to provoke you into having sex with me.”

Dean parted the bathrobe with one hand and cradled Cas’s dick with the other. “Well provoke me you did, you bad, bad angel,” Dean said. “Hm,” he said, and his mouth smoothed itself over the head of Castiel’s semi-erect dick. “And you can’t provoke me without punishment,” he added, lifting his head to see Cas’s reaction.

“I think,” Castiel said faintly, “That you and I have different ideas about what constitutes punishment.”

Dean got up, and dragged Cas, who made a startled noise of protest, two feet further down the bed. He stripped off his clothes and lay next to him, bodily rolling him over so his face was in Dean’s groin. Dean started sucking in earnest, and Cas tentatively grasped Dean’s dick and licked the head.

Cas’s dick slid out of Dean’s mouth. “Take it,” he growled. “Take it in your mouth, I’m gonna fuck your tonsils.”

“Mf,” Cas said.

“I’m gonna come down your throat, yeah, stroke me like that. Let me in, as deep as you can.” Dean went back to giving Cas the sucking of a lifetime. He caressed Cas’s balls and stroked his taint and enjoyed every moan that Cas couldn’t get past his dick. After a couple of minutes Cas backed up somewhat and looped his tongue around and around the head of his cock while stroking his cock and cupping his balls.

“Hey,” Dean said, disengaging. “Did I say you could stop?”

“You did,” Cas pointed out. “I wanted some lube,” and Dean felt the cold of the lube and the gentle pressure of Cas’s index finger against his asshole, stroking and exploring. Then Cas said, “I’m finding this all kind of overwhelming.”

“You wanna stop?” Dean asked, thinking he’d turned Cas off.

“No, just –” Cas said helplessly.

“Get on top,” Dean said. “You can control how deep you want to go.”

The change in position was what Cas needed. After a couple of minutes Dean found it harder and harder to concentrate on Cas, his need to come hard, right now, took over as Cas did something, he couldn’t tell what, it all felt so good. His back arched and his pelvis heaved and he came, feeling like his dick was a hundred yards long and Cas was taking it all. “Ah Cas your mouth feels so fucking good,” he cried.

Sam, who had chosen that moment to enquire how many people wanted breakfast, paused with his hand raised to knock on the door and backed up as if he’d been shoved. Eyes wide, he returned to the kitchen and poured himself another cup of coffee, wondering if ear bleach was a thing.

When Dean could form a sentence again, he said, “Your turn.”

“Can we… shift gears?”

“Anything,” Dean said indulgently. He remembered how he’d felt when Cas had said that to him, and hoped to have the same effect.

“Can you kiss me while you jerk me off?”

Dean shivered. Tasting his own come was one of his kinks, although he didn’t advertise it. He swung around 180 degrees and lay on top of Cas and kissed the last traces of his own come out of Cas’s mouth, and then reached down and closed his hand around Cas’s dick, stroking and teasing and stroking some more, more and more firmly, faster and faster. “Dean,” Cas murmured into his mouth, and came, clinging to him and moaning softly.

“Yowza,” Dean said. Cas continued to pant, eyes closed, and couldn’t talk. Dean waited a second before mopping him up.

“Are you going to want sex every day?” Cas asked, when he could finally speak.

“I _warned_ you,” Dean said. “My beautiful angel, my ridiculously sexy Cas, I really did warn you.”

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Readers look for fic. Good readers finish what they like. Better readers leave kudos. Best readers leave comments.


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